


Remember Me

by Westward



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, In which the melding of reality and the metaverse is not kind to Akira, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Persona 5: The Royal, Team as Family, Third Semester, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25959721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Westward/pseuds/Westward
Summary: How strange it is, that a dead man is the only one who can still see him clearly.“It seems neither of us are getting what we want.” Akira says, and he knows this answer will irritate Goro. “You get a second chance at life, and I get forgotten.”--In which the melding of reality and the Metaverse is Not Kind to Akira.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Kurusu Akira & Phantom Thieves of Hearts
Comments: 46
Kudos: 394
Collections: Skurrel's Personal Fanfic Recommendations





	1. Chapter 1

Akira only notices halfway through the day. 

Akira thought it had just been the cold getting to him; the normal January chill that has seeped into his bones. His fingers were just a little numb because he didn’t have a pair of good gloves yet. That’s what he told himself, at least.

But he learns the truth halfway through the school day. 

Akira twirls his pen in his hand as he half-listens to Ushimaru’s lecture, half-plans out what he and Goro will have to do in Maruki’s Palace later that day. They have a lot of ground to cover, and with only the two of them, the infiltration process is taking far longer than Akira’s used to. He’s staring out the window, creating a mental note of all the supplies he needs to buy first, when his pen slips out of his grasp and clatters to the floor.

He would have thought nothing of it. Akira’s pretty dexterous, but sometimes even he makes mistakes when he’s not paying enough attention. He’s just glad that it was with his pen instead of his dagger. But then Akira bends down to pick up the pen, and then he catches sight of his fingers. And he sees how the very tips are slightly transparent.

Akira jumps from his chair, startling the class and stopping the lecture. Before Ushimaru can even order him to sit back down, Akira is out the door. He’s sprinting to the restroom, and he’s glad he has some privacy as he inspects his hand in the sink’s mirror. He reaches out to touch the mirror, and his fingers start to pass through it before finally finding resistance.

Akira can feel himself start to panic. But it’s the kind of panic that feels far off, where you don’t even realize that you’re the one actually panicking. Akira’s seen this before. Just once. On Christmas Eve.

It doesn’t take Akira too long to connect the mental dots. Dr. Maruki is attempting to meld reality with the Metaverse. And for some reason that’s making Akira disappear from the collective cognition. The pain hasn’t kicked in yet, but Akira knows from experience that it will start to hurt very soon.

But what he doesn’t understand is _why_.

Why is he disappearing?

When Akira returns to class, pale and visibly shaken, Ushimaru and his classmates don’t even bother to look up at him. They don’t risk awkward glances at him for the rest of the day. Or whisper about him, trying their hardest not to catch his attention, but completely unaware of how loud they can be. And Akira isn't called on for the rest of the day. That never happens, as the teachers like to keep him on his toes with particularly tricky questions. 

Akira can’t help but worry that he’s already being forgotten. 

* * *

Goro notices something is wrong with him almost immediately. Akira doesn’t know if that’s because he’s quieter than usual as they scope around the Palace. Or if he’s just not performing up to snuff for the other boy. And as they retreat to the nearest safe room to heal up, Goro doesn’t bother to beat around the bush. They don’t have time for that if they want to stop Dr. Maruki.

“You’re distracted. We’ll never finish at this rate, Joker. Get your head straight before we both pay for your mistakes.” Goro says, tone angry and disappointed. “What’s gotten into the _oh so great_ leader of the Phantom Thieves?”

Akira doesn’t answer him, doesn’t take the bait to his teasing words. Instead, he opts to show Goro. He pulls off one of his red gloves and holds his hand up to the fluorescent lights of the safe room. He shows Goro how the light is starting to pass through his fingertips, like sun rays through a break in a storm. Goro is silent as he stares.

As Akira puts his glove back on, Goro finally speaks. “We’ll need to act faster before you’re completely compromised.” He pauses before adding, “Does it hurt?”

“It’s starting to ache. Nothing I can’t handle yet.” Akira tells him. That much is true, for now. 

“Good. Because I can’t infiltrate this whole palace by myself if you disappear on me.” Goro says, words sharp and bitter. And then again, much softer. “Tell me when it gets to be too much.”

Akira nods.

He has no intention of doing so.

* * *

The next morning, Sojiro’s usual plate of curry for breakfast isn’t there to greet Akira. When Sojiro realizes his mistake, he quickly apologizes. He clearly feels bad about it. But Akira smiles and promises that he’s not upset. Sojiro just forgot; he was too busy taking care of Futaba, Morgana, and Wakaba. It was just this once. No harm done.

He forgets the next morning, too.

* * *

Every one of his friends are so happy in Maruki’s new reality that they don’t message him. He’s not exactly needy for their attention, and he never has been. But it sits wrong with Akira to see how the Phantom Thieves group chat has been abandoned for the past couple weeks. Akira’s the only one who regularly signs into the chat, now. The last time anyone else logged on was just before the turn of the new year.

Sometimes they don’t even realize Akira’s right in front of them until he says something, startling them from their happy stupor.

Akira wonders if he isn’t part of their perfect, happy lives that Maruki crafted for them.

(He's not exactly mad that he isn’t. But it still hurts to know.)

One day Akira manages to catch Makoto before she leaves Shujin, before she has dinner with her family. He’s grateful that he was even able to catch her attention at all.

“Oh, is there something you need, Akira?” She asks, giving him a cheerful hello.

Akira wears a smile of his own, but it feels too hard, too forced. “Are you happy with things like this, Makoto? Are you happy with your sister? With your father?”

He searches her face, looking for any sign of the observant, analytical woman he’s gotten to know all these months. Out of everyone in the Phantom Thieves, she’d be the first to notice that something is very wrong. She’d be the first to act on it. All Akira needs is a spark of concern, a hint of doubt somewhere within Makoto. But all he’s treated to is a kind smile and happy eyes.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Something inside Akira sinks like lead.

“... that’s all I wanted to know. Thanks.”

With that, Makoto turns to leave. And Akira can see that Sae is waiting for her down the street. She looks just as happy as Makoto; nothing like the embittered prosecutor he had met last year. Akira waves goodbye to them, but he’s sure that they didn’t see it. He turns around and heads back to Yongen-Jaya.

The ache from slowly vanishing has finally settled in. It’s as deep as his wrists at this point, and starting to crawl up to his elbows. He’s starting to take some of Tae’s medicine now to help alleviate the pain, instead of saving it for incursions into the Metaverse. It helps, slightly.

His fingernails are now completely gone, and it’s starting to spread further down his fingers. Akira finally caved in and bought gloves, so others wouldn’t notice how he’s slowly becoming undone like a loose thread. And it’s for himself, as well. With the gloves on, it looks like nothing is out of the ordinary. It’s easier to pretend that, too.

* * *

Akira doesn’t know if it’s the pain that’s starting to get to him, or the realization as to why he’s disappearing that hurts the most.

This is Maruki’s perfect reality. Not just for the Phantom Thieves, but for everyone. And the vast majority of people who know Akira here in Tokyo wish that he wasn’t here at all. And Akira rejected Maruki’s reality right from the beginning. He doesn’t have a place here, for himself or for others.

To make the majority of the people happy, Akira cannot exist.

That night, after a brutal infiltration mission that gives them no extra foothold in the Palace, Goro and Akira don’t go their separate ways for the night. Instead, Goro takes Akira's hand and refuses to release it, and silently leads them to his apartment. Akira doesn't fight it. It looks like the place hasn’t been touched in over a month; in here, the air is stale, and there's a dead plant that's mummifying in the corner. But Akira doesn’t say anything as Goro leads him to his couch and leaves him there. He doesn’t say anything as Goro returns shortly after, and forces a bottle of wine into his hands.

(He doesn’t drink. But he does now.)

They don’t say anything for a long while. They just sit in silence, sipping at their drinks. And then Goro proceeds to tell Akira he shouldn’t exist in this world either. 

“I died in Shido’s palace.” Goro tells him after he takes a long swig of his own bottle. “I can’t remember anything after that bastard’s version of me shot me. One minute I’m there, the next I’m overhearing Sae asking you to turn yourself in…"

 _Well,_ part of Akira's mind wonders without his permission, the same part that's been numb and apathetic to his condition these past couple weeks. _That explains the dead plant in the corner._

Goro hasn't realized that Akira's mind has wandered off topic. But his next words draw Akira back to the present. "It was your desire for me to be alive that brought me back.”

“Do you want to be alive?” Akira asks, not daring to look Goro in the eyes. He has no tolerance for alcohol. He’s already buzzed.

“I wanted control of my life, my fate.” Goro says, and his words are bitter. “I was prepared to die back there. I was _content_ to die. But you robbed me of that.”

“Do you still want to die?” Akira asks, letting the venom of Goro’s words roll over him.

“I want to fix what broke the world while we still can. Do you want to die, Akira?”

Akira doesn’t answer right away. He pulls off his glove and stares down at his disappearing hand. Most of his fingers are gone by now; all that’s left are small nubs above his knuckles. There’s already a sheen of transparency through the palm of his hand. His other hand is still gloved, and it’s holding onto a half empty wine bottle. Akira idly wonders how he can still hold onto stuff when the glove is on. It must be Metaverse nonsense at play.

Akira is tired.

He’s tired of fighting for his own right to live. The world has wanted him gone, out of the way for so long. He’s fought and killed a god, and still that wasn’t enough to ensure his place in this world. His friends, his family, are starting to forget him. And they don’t even realize it.

How strange it is, that a dead man is the only one who can still see him clearly.

He’s tired. And it’s so tempting to finally give in.

“It seems neither of us are getting what we want.” Akira says, and he knows this answer will irritate Goro. He has some more of his wine, and he’s glad that he drinks now. It stops him from regretting the tears that are threatening to fall. “You get a second chance at life, and I get forgotten.”

“I’ll never forget you, Akira Kurusu.” It is a promise and a threat all in one.

Akira smiles at that. But it’s regretful. He knows that eventually even Goro will forget him too.

* * *

It’s getting harder and harder to infiltrate Maruki’s Palace. 

Joker is getting weaker and weaker. It takes more energy to summon his Persona with each passing day, and it’s leaving him winded. It takes less to knock him down.

It’s becoming clear that what he and Goro are attempting is an impossibility. 

* * *

Akira’s lost half of his forearms by the time he’s made peace with his fate. He did the best he could, but this time, it wasn’t enough. 

Goro is upset with him, angry that he’s giving up. He’s refusing to answer Akira’s messages, and he swears that he’ll fix everything without him, that he doesn’t need him anymore. That he can do this by himself. Akira doesn’t have the strength to argue back.

Akira is so tired. And his friends are happy. They don’t need him anymore. 

(Did they ever need him? Wasn’t it because of him that everything horrible happened to them? Because he was the unlucky pawn in some false god’s wicked game? And they just became unlucky from pure association.)

Akira knows what he wants to do with the time he has left.

He catches Ryuji after classes are dismissed. It takes a couple shouts of his name in an already empty hall, and a hard hand on his shoulder, but eventually he catches Ryuji’s attention.

“Hey.” Akira starts. 

“Oh, hey dude! I didn’t see you there. What’s up?” Ryuji asks.

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

“For what, dude?”

For being a friend. For being there for Akira first, before everyone else. For all that he’s done, both for Akira and for the rest of the world. For everything and nothing. 

“Nothing in particular.” Akira says, struggling to keep a straight face. “Here. I want you to have this.”

Akira gives him a silver bangle. On the inside, his initials are carved into the metal. He did it himself. It’s sloppy and jagged, but it's the best he can do now that he’s starting to lose control of his motor skills. Akira hopes that that will remain even when he is gone.

“What’s this for?” Ryuji asks as he accepts it, placing it over his wrist. 

“It’s just something to remember me by.”

* * *

He gives Yusuke a set of paint brushes, and a carrying case for them. He bought the set mostly for the small fox design that sits atop the box.

For Haru, some pots for her plants, as well as some flower seeds from the florist shop he used to work at. They’re perennials; if taken care of properly, and Haru _will_ take care of them, they’ll last for years.

Makoto, a pen case and a high end journal, similar to the one her father uses. Similar to the one Sae uses. He writes a small note in the back, along with a little doodle. 

Ann, a box of her favorite chocolates, with a personalized note tucked in underneath the cover. Akira's left it unsigned; he doesn’t want his words to disappear just because they came from him.

To Kasumi, or Sumire, or _whoever_ she wants to be, he gives her his spare set of glasses. _For your father,_ Akira writes and attaches a small gift tag.

He leaves Futaba his old CRT and the retro gaming set. It’s already packed up in a box, placed on a storage shelf in the attic. Her name is scrawled on the side of the box for her to find and claim at a later date.

Morgana, his key to Leblanc. A little Jack Frost key-chain is attached to it. It's the one they won from a machine in Akihabara back in September. Soon he'll get what he always wanted; the attic will be his own room.

He gives Sojiro his probation journal, knowing that he won’t necessarily need to fill it out. There’s no way he’s going to last until the end of March. He hides it under the counter of Leblanc, to be discovered months from now.

Goro is still angry with him, still isn’t responding to his messages. It’s been a week since they’ve last spoken to one another. Akira hates to leave it at that, but there’s nothing he can do. So Akira slips a letter underneath his apartment door. In it, Akira doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t try to explain why he’s letting this happen. Instead, it’s a list of all the people who've helped Akira this past year. He has a feeling that they’ll be able to help Goro, too. If he lets them.

Akira hopes it’s enough. They’ll forget him. But hopefully they won’t forget what he leaves behind.

* * *

Akira calls his parents, just one last time. And unlike all other times before, they pick up. It’s a horrible spark of hope.

“Hello? Who is this?” It’s his mother.

“Mom? It’s me, Akira.”

“Who?” There is no recognition in her voice.

“... Sorry to bother you. I think I have the wrong number.”

* * *

Dr. Maruki’s deadline is fast approaching. There are only days left.

Akira decides to not go to school. His name hasn’t been on the roll call for the past week. People look over him, _through him_ , more often than they look at him. Sometimes they even walk through him, passing through his shoulder where they once would have collided. Akira is more of a ghost than a person at this point.

More of a _phantom,_ Akira would have joked, if he were in a better mood.

So, no. Akira does not go to school. Instead, Akira wanders around Tokyo, taking in the sights one last time before his legs vanish too much for him to walk normally. He leaves Leblanc before the sun even rises. Before he has to watch as Sojiro’s eyes gloss over him, confused as to who he is and why he was in the cafe’s attic.

He doesn't stop to eat anything. He isn't really hungry that much, anymore.

As the day passes, he eventually makes his way to Inokashira Park. He sits down on a bench and stares out at the frozen pond. He listens to the snow as it falls; it’s a soft hum in the absence of Tokyo’s usual noise pollution. There’s a haunting beauty to it, with the lights of Tokyo dancing across the frozen surface. With the dead, hibernating foliage that hugs the pond, covered in a fresh coating of fluffy snow. 

It’s cold, but serene. Peaceful. And there is a kind of peace to be found in sleeping.

His breath fogs his glasses, and he takes them off. When Akira puts them in his pocket, he notices that he suddenly has company.

It’s Lavenza. She stares out at the frozen pond as well, refusing to meet his eyes. “So this is the path you have chosen, Trickster.”

“Are you disappointed?” He asks, his voice far softer than he’s used to. He has a feeling that she is.

“I’m confused.” Lavenza tells him. 

She’s confused. And he’s tired.

Even so, Lavenza doesn’t leave his side until nightfall. When she does leave, she gives Akira a kiss on his forehead, and a long hug. This is another goodbye; they both know it but neither wants to acknowledge it. When she finally pulls away from him, she is crying.

He’s crying too.

* * *

The next morning, Akira doesn’t even bother getting out of bed. Instead, Akira clutches his blankets and pulls them closer to his body. He isn’t in as much pain as he has been. If anything, he is numb, as if his limbs have simply fallen asleep. He is comfortable and warm. And Akira convinces himself to fall back asleep.

He’s been tired for so long. He is finally ready to rest.

And when Akira finally falls into a deep sleep, he dreams of laughter. Happy smiles and shared meals. Wild, impossible landscapes that he thought he’d never be able to see, let alone explore. There are easy touches amongst close friends. Words of love, of affirmation. There are gentle hands running through his hair. It’s soothing, and even in this dream he cannot stop himself from leaning into the touch.

There may be crying, but it is bittersweet. It is accompanied by several faint, familiar voices whispering _‘We love you’_ and _‘Don’t leave us’_ and _‘We’re so sorry, Akira’_. Akira knows that it’s his imagination, allowing him to say one final goodbye to his friends.

If today is the day Akira finally slips away, he is content to have this as his last memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain: Work on your other WIPs. Don't start another one.  
> Me: No.


	2. Chapter 2

Goro cannot believe it, but it seems that Akira is nothing but a scared fool. He had been almost convinced differently. To think that the Leader of the great Phantom Thieves would willingly submit to this fate after everything he’s fought for, it confuses Goro. 

And then it irritates Goro when he realizes that he has to be the one to fix this too before it’s too late. It’s not like he has to fix _everything else_ in the world all by himself.

Goro doesn’t know when exactly he decided he had to save Akira. Maybe it was on the night he brought Akira back to his apartment. Where they sat beside one another on his couch in his small living room, drinking to soothe their wounds while they discussed fate and mortality. Maybe it was during one of their last incursions into the mad doctor’s Palace, when Joker crumpled like paper after the first hit he took. When Goro felt a quick stab of fear in his gut; the first time he’s felt true fear in years.

Or maybe it was when Goro first caught sight of that exhausted, dead look on Akira’s face. The same look Goro had worn for so long after his mother had passed. Before he learned how to wear the calm, collected mask of the Famous Detective Prince.

Grim acceptance.

It didn’t sit right with Goro to see it on Akira’s face. It shouldn’t belong there. Akira should be confident, cocky. Quick to share warm smiles with those he cared about (why Goro is counted among those numbers, he will never understand). There should be a light to Akira’s grey eyes. He should look alive.

It felt more wrong seeing Akira looking like that, than this entire pale imitation of reality.

How could Akira accept this fate? Wasn’t he the one that always went on about second chances?

No matter. Sitting around asking himself what was going on in Akira’s head wasn’t helping him. Goro was running out of time, both to save this world, and Akira. A week. That’s all Goro had before it was too late.

And even if Goro cannot save Akira, he refuses to be the only one to mourn his death. Akira deserves better than his tears alone.

* * *

Back at the start of January, Akira had attempted to free his friends from Dr. Maruki’s mind tricks. He had tried to show them the errors in this false reality, tried to let them make the connections themselves to free their own minds. 

Akira had failed, obviously. They had been so content to invite this fake world into their hearts, that they wouldn’t dare listen to reason.

Now, as Goro stands outside Shujin’s gates, waiting for classes to be dismissed for the day, he has to wonder if Akira hadn’t been forceful enough with the rest of his Phantom Thieves.

Goro doesn’t doubt that that was the case. Of course Akira was soft on them. Of course Akira would see how happy his friends were, and he wouldn’t want to ruin it for them. Akira’s love and loyalty for them stayed his hand, stopping him from doing what he must. Even if that means throwing himself down on a sword to ensure their happiness.

Goro will not make the same mistake. 

Goro will not coddle the Phantom Thieves. He needs to make them angry. Upset and distressed. He needs them to feel every emotion that this false world works to prevent. If Goro can, he might just be able to break through to them, force them to see what’s wrong and what they must do to help fix it. It should be easy, as even in this world they should still treat Goro with inherent distrust.

It doesn’t matter what they think of him; Goro only needs this to work.

But first he needs to test his theory. And Haru Okumura should be his best option. Out of everyone, she and Wakaba Isshiki’s daughter have the most reason to hate him. Haru is the easiest to find and approach.

(Goro has been avoiding Leblanc. Avoiding Wakaba. Avoiding Akira.)

It appears that Miss Okumura had decided to stay late at school today, as the majority of students have started to disperse through the school’s front gates, trickling down the streets and towards the stations. Their happy conversations and laughter sit wrong with Goro, and he scowls as he stares at the crowd. Goro hugs the side of the street, keeping his eyes sharp for a certain head of fluffy hair. 

When she does not appear, Goro sighs and walks into Shujin Academy, aware that he could be caught by the faculty but not caring in the slightest. Eventually Goro catches Haru up on the rooftop. She is covering her plants with a tarp, trying to save them from the impending cold front. 

And when she finally catches sight of him, she gives him a hesitant, yet friendly smile.

“Hello, Goro. What brings you to my rooftop today?” Haru asks him, voice light as she turns her back on him. “Would you like to help me?”

For a moment, Goro is silent. He is shocked at her easy attitude, with how quickly she has accepted his presence in her space. It’s not what he expected, considering what he has done to her. Goro expected immediate hostility, not this.

Ah, but why would Haru hate him? Here, Kunikazu Okumura hasn’t died by his hands.

Goro sighs. She needed to be reminded.

“Tell me, Haru. How is your father?” Goro starts, walking forward.

“Father? Oh, he’s doing so well!” Haru positively beams as she secures the tarp over her planters. “He’s starting to spend less time with the company, and I think it’s had such an improvement on his mood.”

“That’s surprising to hear.” Goro says as he steps closer. He’s in her space now. He prepares himself for what he’s about to say, knowing what sort of emotions he’ll force her through. “After everything that happened last year, you’ve had almost no time to grieve properly.”

“Grieve? What do you mean, Akechi-kun?” She’s frowning, her forehead wrinkling at his words. She’s silent for a moment before, “I’m afraid you’re confused.”

“No, I’m afraid _you’re_ confused, Haru.” Goro says, forcing the words out through a bitter chuckle.

Goro steps forward again, right into her face. Haru cannot help but take a step back, away from him. Out of the corner of Goro’s eyes, he watches as Haru’s hands ball up into fists, watches as her shoulders tense up. He glowers down at her, loose hair falling into his face. He’s not done yet.

“Do you not remember your father collapsing live on television? You and millions of others watched it happen. You watched his life drain away, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.”

“That’s― that didn’t happen. You’re lying, Akechi-kun.” Haru says. There’s panic in her eyes as she stumbles over her words. Still, Haru clutches to this false reality. But she’s starting to hesitate. “My father is―”

“Is dead!” Goro snaps. He’s breathing hard now, and he knows he must look manic. “I should know because _I’m the one who killed him!_ While you and the others thieves went off playing heroes in the dark, I shot your father in the back of his head. He didn’t even have the time to reali―”

She slaps him. And he stops mid-sentence. Goro’s cheek stings, but he can’t help but smile wickedly. He rubs at the irritated skin as Haru’s face crumples. Gone is Haru’s cheerful smile. Instead she is on the verge of tears, her chin trembling. 

Her mouth opens, but no words come out.

“Are you ready to face reality, Haru Okumura?” Goro cannot stop himself from asking. Venom drips from his words. 

“I think it’s best if you leave.” She whispers. There’s pain in her words. There’s also anger.

Goro nods in agreement. He’s done what he had to do. Goro makes his way to the roof’s exit. “Try to remember what you’re giving up for a man already cold in the ground.”

* * *

Goro catches Futaba outside of Leblanc one morning. He’s glad he caught her before she could enter, but it’s clear that that’s where she’s heading. He stops her by catching her elbow, pulling her to the side. Goro ignores how the cafe is just looming ahead, just on the edge of his peripherals.

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me, Futaba. How did you break through your self-imposed isolation?” Goro asks.

“Uh, weird way to say good morning, I guess.” Futaba starts, giving him a weird look. Nonetheless, she shrugs as she continues. “But anyways, it was the others that helped me get over my crippling social anxiety.”

“Who, exactly?”

“Come on, Akechi, you know, em! Ann and Ryuji! Makoto, Yusuke and Morgana.” Futaba says, listing off names. “This was before we started hanging out with you and Haru. But I―”

“You’re forgetting someone.” Goro interjects, stopping her from rambling. “There’s someone else who helped you.”

“Huh? You mean Sojiro? Or do you mean Mom?”

Goro cannot stop himself from frowning. From bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, and he can feel the corner of his eyes twitch. _How can you forget him? You treat him like a brother. How has it gotten this bad already?_ But Goro will not bring this up, he’ll just confuse her even moreso, and then this would be a wasted effort.

He needs to do what he did to Haru. 

“Why were you in isolation in the first place, Futaba?”

“Why? Because… Uh…”

“Because your mother is dead. She’s been dead for years.” 

The words hit Futaba, and there’s a moment when there’s clarity in her wide eyes. Futaba stares at Goro with shock, frozen in place. And in that brief moment, there’s hope. But then that clarity is gone in an instant. She’s refusing to believe it, just like Haru. Goro’s next words are sharp, dangerous. 

“And you need to wake up from this dream before you kill someone else.”

* * *

Goro methodically visits the rest of the Phantom Thieves throughout the week. And with each visit, he leaves misery in his wake. They curse at him, shout at him as he pokes holes in their precious little paradises. After a talk with Ryuji, and surprisingly Makoto as well, they even attempt to fight Goro. They both force him against a wall as they glare, fury at the tip of their tongues. 

Loki is practically singing under his skin. He is once again sowing chaos within others. But Goro perseveres, pushing through his Persona’s festering delight and takes the brunt of the Phantom Thieves’ angry remarks. He needs them to face the truth about Dr. Maruki’s horrible reality. 

If they did not hate Goro before, they will now. Goro accepts their hatred without much afterthought. By this point, he’s quite familiar with playing the role as the villain.

(But their hatred for Goro will never outmatch what he will hold against them, if he fails because of them.)

And with each visit to the other Thieves, Goro asks them, “Do you remember what you’re giving up? Do you remember who you’ve decided wasn't important enough?”

He’s met with confusion each time. A complete lack of the recognition he’s desperately searching for. And each time he’s faced with it, it ignites a horrible rage within Goro. He has to hold back his own angry tears as he faces them, hands trembling into fists. He wants to grab them by the sides and shout Akira’s name until their ears ring. Until his voice grows hoarse.

How _dare they_ claim to be Akira’s friends. How could Akira allow himself to _die for these idiots_? Why is it that Goro’s capable of treating Akira better than any of them, when he was the one who put a gun to his temple and―

Goro leaves them, shaking with his own poorly contained rage. 

At least, he thinks it’s rage.

* * *

Akira has been sending Goro a handful of messages every day for the past week. Goro cannot bring himself to look at them. He can’t face the other boy until he makes this right.

Eventually, Akira stops messaging him altogether.

Goro immediately regrets not responding.

* * *

It’s been a long day. 

It started off with a quick solo infiltration mission into Dr. Maruki’s Palace in the morning. He hadn’t gotten as far as he’d like. It seems Goro’s gone soft, complacent while working with Akira. Gotten too comfortable being dependent on another’s help. (How nice it felt, to finally have someone watching his back, not having to look over his shoulder every waking moment.)

But it was still progress, nonetheless.

In the latter half of the day, Goro had been silently observing the Phantom Thieves. He hasn’t approached them yet, curious to see if they’ve started to remember on their own. They haven’t given up this perfect world yet, but Goro can tell by the way they hold themselves and their expressions, that they’ve finally accepted that something isn’t quite right. All they need now is one more push.

But that’s a job for tomorrow. 

And it needs to be tomorrow. Because he’s almost out of time.

Goro is exhausted by the time he finally arrives at his apartment. It’s been a couple days since he’s returned to his place, too busy to sit down and catch some much needed sleep. This isn’t the first time Goro’s had to run on fumes for days on end; Shido had kept him on a tight schedule, after all. He’s used to his limbs feeling like lead, heavy with exhaustion. Especially after escapading through the Metaverse.

It’s a struggle to put his key in the lock correctly, and Goro grumbles to himself. It’s late at night, or perhaps even early the next morning. The exact time doesn’t matter, as all Goro is focused on is having a quick meal to fill his empty stomach before collapsing in bed. The sooner he sleeps, the sooner he can wake, and the sooner he can get back to fixing things.

As he enters his apartment, he steps on something that is decisively not cold linoleum flooring. There’s a small, barely audible crack of paper bending. Goro stumbles as he looks down. It’s a sealed envelope, left unsigned. Goro frowns as he picks it up. He opens it with a sharp jab of his finger. 

Inside of the envelope is a list. The writing is sloppy and jagged, but still legible enough to make out. Immediately, Goro starts reading.

_Hifumi Togo - Kanda Catholic Church - Plays Shogi on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday nights. Quiet, but gets intense during games. Good listener and doesn’t judge._

_Ichiko Ohya - Crossroads, Shinjuku - Investigative journalist. Spends most nights there. Dedicated to her work, and keeps her word. Best not to accept her drinks. Be nice to Lala Escargot._

_Shinya Oda - Akihabara Arcade - Gun About Champion. Plays afternoons on weekdays. Needs a role model and a big brother figure. You’ll like him._

_Munehisa Iwai - Untouchable, Shibuya - Airsoft Vendor. Rough around the edges. Fences Metaverse goods. Doesn’t like questions, both asking or answering them. You’ll definitely like him._

The list goes on. They’re people who Goro doesn’t know and hasn’t met. But he has an inkling into who they are, and what they do. While Goro reads the list, he absentmindedly closes the front door to his apartment and slides down to the ground. Goro clutches the paper in both hands, almost tearing it apart as he realizes what this is. What this means.

Akira’s last gift to him.

And suddenly Goro is crying. Try as he might, Goro cannot wipe the tears away. He cannot stop the tears as they fall, landing on the paper and smudging the ink. Akira’s words bleed away with each drop, and Goro is terrified of losing them as well.

After he has cried himself dry, Goro crawls to bed, shedding his clothes without much care. He ignores how his stomach feels hollow, empty. Goro lays there, awake and alert, staring at the ceiling. Tokyo’s lights stream through his window’s blinds, creating thin strips of light against the ceiling. Goro’s eyes feel dry and tired, and yet he cannot bring himself to fall asleep.

In his silent apartment, Goro’s mind refuses to relax. The stress that he has been refusing to acknowledge for weeks is finally brought to the forefront of his mind. Goro wants to feel angry, but he doesn’t have enough energy for that. Instead, all he can feel is the inklings of despair.

Goro knew that the world was inherently cruel. He learned that at a very young age. But why was it so cruel to give him a second chance, when the only person Goro cares about must pay the price?

It would be so much easier if their roles were reversed. If Akira would live. If Goro vanished from memory. He is the dead man, after all. Akira still has a place here, among these people. Goro does not.

* * *

When Goro wakes, he has a horrible feeling that he’s almost out of time. How he knows this, he doesn’t know.

But something is happening.

And the only thing that comes to mind is _Akira._

Goro wakes shaking, heart thrumming in his throat. He looks at his clock, and realizes that he’s overslept. It’s well into the afternoon. That’s not good.

Panic follows him like a shadow as Goro struggles to get dressed and hurries out his front door. The early, bitter January air bites at his cheeks as his sprints down Tokyo’s streets. Before he knows it, he’s on the line heading to Yongen-Jaya. And even as the train jostles down the tracks, Goro cannot catch his breath.

Goro’s still not completely coherent, he’s still in the middle of a _fucking panic attack,_ when he reaches Leblanc. Goro bursts through the front door, slamming it open and almost knocking the Sayuri to the ground. It catches the attention of everyone in the cafe. And everyone is there. Almost everyone.

The Phantom Thieves are there, huddled together over a booth. They look like they’ve just been caught red handed, scheming for their next heist. So they look at him quizzically; it’s clear they weren’t expecting him. _(Of course they weren’t expecting him; why would they expect him?)_ Goro stumbles inside, the door swinging behind him. His feet feel like they don’t belong to him. Like they aren’t under his control.

“Akechi?” Makoto speaks, and Goro only barely recognizes that it’s actually her speaking. “We were just talking about you. About what you’ve been asking us this past week.”

Yusuke nods and speaks as well. “If you wouldn’t mind, we want to ask you some questions, as well.”

Goro continues his way further into Leblanc. He’s stopped listening to them.

Morgana nods his head in agreement. Goro barely recognizes that he’s still human. “You were right, Akechi. There’s something that doesn’t feel right―hey, where are you going?!”

Suddenly, there’s a hand on Goro’s shoulder. But he’s quick to push it away from him, shoving away the person that dared to get in his way. What Goro wants to do is rip the offending hand off of its owner. He can’t stop what sounds like a growl escaping past his lips. But there’s not enough time for any of this.

Their voices start to rise in concern, but their words pass by Goro, nothing but the sound of wind in his ears as he finally reaches the stairs leading up to the attic. Goro stomps up the attic, and he hears the Phantom Thieves start to rise to their feet, intending to follow him up. 

But Goro stops caring about them when he finally catches sight of Akira.

Goro’s stomach drops, and a cold chill settles in its place.

Goro feels no relief as he stumbles forward towards Akira’s futon. Akira is still here, but just barely. All Goro can see of Akira is his head, as the other boy is clutching at his blankets, forming a tight cocoon over what remains of his body. Akira’s face is held tightly against his own shoulder. His eyes are clenched shut as he frowns, deep lines against his forehead. It’s obvious that even in sleep, he’s still in great pain.

Akira is still fading away; Goro can see it happening with his own eyes. As Goro falls to his knees, bringing his hand up to touch Akira’s face, his heart stalls as he catches sight of the pillow behind Akira’s head. The afternoon light pours through the window above them, and light filters through Akira. He’s _flickering._

Bringing his trembling hand to Akira’s face, Goro is terrified of the possibility that he’ll just pass through it. Akira is nothing more than an after image in a poorly developed photograph.

Goro’s week away from Akira had not been kind to the other boy. Did he do this to Akira?

“Akira.” Goro’s voice is so small, but it still startles him. “Stay with me. Stay with me, Akira.”

Akira doesn’t move. Doesn’t show any sign of hearing Goro at all. 

“I promised that I would never forget you. And I intend to keep that promise.” Goro whispers. “You don’t get to give up this easily. Not after everything you’ve done to prove your strength.”

Goro finally places his hand down on Akira, and somehow he’s still solid. Akira even leans into the touch, letting out a pained groan as he does so. Something inside Goro breaks a little more. He runs a hand through Akira’s hair. Even like this, it’s so soft. He’s wanted to do this for so long. But not like this.

Goro cannot stop himself from pulling the blanket away, just enough to satisfy his morbid curiosity. Immediately, he drops the blanket. There isn’t much left of Akira’s body.

Behind them, someone speaks. “Goro. What’s going on?”

Immediately, Goro’s sorrow turns to anger. He doesn’t dignify whoever asked that with his full attention, keeping his back turned on the other Thieves. “You’re killing Akira. That’s what’s happening.”

“... uh, Akira?”

Goro rips his hands out of Akira’s semi-transparent hair and whips around, immediately on his feet. He grabs at whoever is closest to him and slams them into the nearby bookshelf. Akira’s knick-knacks clatter from the harsh contact, threatening to fall to the ground. Through Goro’s angry haze, he sees that he has Ryuji in his clutches. 

Ryuji is scared. Good. That means that Goro’s not alone.

When Goro finally speaks, he spews his words through clenched teeth. “Your best friend. Your leader. This false world is killing him and _all of you are just letting it happen!_ ”

Underneath him, Ryuji squeaks, “W-what are you talking about?! Wha―”

“For _once_ in your _pathetic lives! Use your fucking brains!”_ Goro is shouting now. He knows people outside can hear him at this volume. There is no more time for patience, and Goro refuses to panic. All that’s left is anger. Akira is vanishing, _dying._ “Who is your leader?! _Who?!”_

Ryuji cannot answer, and so Goro turns his rage-filled gaze onto the others. “Akira! Joker! Is that not enough for you all?! What more do you need to remember him?!”

Finally, Goro releases Ryuji. Ryuji stumbles away, quickly putting enough distance between them to satisfy both of them. The other Thieves continue to stare at Goro like he’s a madman. He is one. And yet he’s the only one who can still see clearly.

Perhaps… this was the first impossible task Goro couldn’t break. This realization hits Goro hard, and he finds that he cannot breathe. 

Goro turns away and kneels back down beside Akira. He stops fighting against the tears that threaten to fall, allows himself to feel vulnerable in front of them. Again, Goro starts to run his hand through Akira’s hair. “If you continue to refuse to see the truth, I’ll ask you all to leave.” He won’t ask; he’ll throw them down the goddamn stairs. “I don’t want you here when he…”

When he goes. 

None of the Phantom Thieves speak up. None of them move to leave. 

And then someone steps forward. Towards the bed. Goro tenses up, ready to push back whoever dared ignore his demands. But then he comes face to face with Futaba. She is crying, her face painted with despair. And her eyes aren’t on Goro, but on Akira. 

“Akira?” Futaba’s voice is almost choked back by her tears. “Oh my god. _Akira._ ”

Another steps forward. It’s Morgana, back on all fours, back in his feline form. He leaps onto the futon and immediately curls around Akira. “We did this, didn’t we?”

Goro cannot stop himself from answering. His words are bitter even to his own ears. “Yes. You did.”

Suddenly, the other Thieves are there around Goro. Around Akira. They reach out towards Akira, as if believing if they can hold him, then they will keep him safe. Protect him. And they are mourning for him.

“We’re so sorry, Akira.”

“Please don’t leave us. Stay with us.”

“We love you.”

“Please stay, Akira.”

Their words seem to soothe Akira. The tension in Akira’s face lessens, and he even smiles in his sleep. Goro continues to run his hand through Akira’s hair, refusing to let go. He can’t allow himself to feel relief just yet. But Goro allows himself to feel hope. Hope is a horrible thing to reach out to, but for Akira, Goro will do just that.

Cracks have formed in this reality, allowing for something to bleed through. Something to return to where it belongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, writing the first chapter: I think I'm just gonna have this short story be kind of ambiguous about Goro and Akira's relationship. It'll be whatever the reader wants it to be.  
> Me, after writing this chapter: Goro never does anything half-assed. There is no ambiguity. 
> 
> I'm gonna need to add an epilogue to this oops.


	3. Chapter 3

The last thing Akira expected was to wake up.

But he does.

It’s a slow process. First Akira can hear the sounds of Tokyo outside. The distant cars on the streets and the suspended highway outside, the occasional voices that pass by the window before fading back into the unknown. And Akira can hear breathing. It’s slow and even, and listening to it only makes Akira want to fall back asleep. At first, he thinks it’s his own.

Akira opens his eyes slowly, and he sees Leblanc's attic. It’s late afternoon, with the sunset starting to paint the light that filters through the window a soft but heavy orange. It catches on the dust that’s floating in Leblanc. For a moment, it looks like suspended snowflakes. If it weren’t for the steady breaths and the hums of city life outside, Akira would think that time had been frozen.

Someone is running their hand through his hair. It feels nice. Akira shifts just enough to catch who it is.

It’s Goro.

Goro, who is lying down next to him, half propped up against the wall. Akira’s blankets are twisted among their limbs. The other boy looks exhausted, with his eyes looking particularly dull. Especially since he seems to be looking at nothing in particular. It’s almost as if he’s making it a point not to look at Akira, despite how it's his hand in his hair.

Something about this makes Akira smile.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up.” Goro speaks up, still looking away from Akira. There’s a layer of irritation to his words, but Akira has known Goro long enough to know that this is just another one of his acts. He’s acting irritated because it’s expected of him.

“You know me.” Akira starts. And he has to stop, because his voice sounds so weak and hoarse. He coughs and it shakes his entire body, painfully so. But Akira pushes through it, and he’s smiling. Because if it hurts, that means that he’s _here_. “I’m always striving to meet your expectations.”

“If you wanted to meet my expectations, you would have fixed this mess two weeks ago. _Without_ my help.” This time, Goro is angry with him.

Hearing that makes Akira’s smile falter. Now that he’s awake, there's a lot of questions he wants to ask Goro. Probably too many, and they all have answers that Akira doesn’t want to know. Not quite yet. So he settles for just one, an easy one. “Where are the others?”

“What others? You mean your so-called friends? The ones that practically left you for dead for the sake of their own happiness?” 

“Yes, those friends.” Akira says with a tired sigh. He doesn’t want to do this. Not now. “Where are they?”

Goro is silent for a moment, obviously thinking of what he wants to say to Akira, and what he needs to. Right at this moment, those things aren’t one in the same. Akira tilts his head further, and he catches sight of the Goro’s furrowed brow, his heavy handed frown.

Finally, Goro relents. “Right now? They’re in Maruki’s Palace.”

That surprises Akira. “By themselves?”

“Yes. We need to work overtime if we’re to meet his deadline. And despite my low opinion on your Phantom Thieves,” and here Goro’s voice is unusually venomous, “I believe that Niijima and the cat can lead the rest of them well enough in both of our absences.”

“Why aren’t you there with them?”

“… Someone had to stay behind and make sure you didn’t leave us again.” There’s something there that goes unsaid. Akira thinks he knows what it is, but he knows better. He won’t push for an answer. Not now, at least. “And how are you feeling, Akira? Feel like disappearing on us again?”

Akira holds up a hand to take a look at it. He watches as he flexes it, forming a fist and then running his thumb over his fingers. It’s there, it’s solid. It hasn’t been that way for over two weeks. Akira can feel his strength returning to him, a lot faster than it left him. Hopefully he’ll be back to full strength by the end of the night. And if not, he’ll push himself to be.

“Not anytime soon.” Akira says with a short nod. 

“Good. I’m done with all this hand-holding.” Goro says.

“You’re not holding my hand, though.” Akira retorts with a faint smirk. The hand Akira has been holding up falls, and he searches for Goro’s hand that’s still combing through his hair. “But you’re more than welcome to it.”

Goro’s fingers stop, and he pulls Akira’s hair into his fist. It doesn't quite hurt, but it’s not comfortable either. “You still haven’t realized it yet, have you? Or are you just in denial?” Goro sighs like he’s disappointed. “Why are you still trying? Neither of us were meant to have a happy ending, Akira. And certainly not one that we could share.”

Akira frowns. He wants to sit up and face Goro. But he can’t move while Goro still has his hair in his fist. “Why do we have to worry about happy endings? Why can’t we just think about the present, just this once?”

There is something that the other boy wants to say, wants to share with him. But instead Goro shakes his head, refuses. And he goes back to softly running his hand through Akira’s hair. 

Now that Goro’s permitting it, Akira sits up. His body is so sore, and despite sleeping for what must have been a whole 24 hours, Akira’s still exhausted. But he forces himself up, and he turns so he can face Goro at eye level. Goro looks just as exhausted as Akira feels.

A silence drags out between them.

“Thank you, Goro. For saving my life.” Even if it’s ultimately at the cost of his own.

Goro’s mouth twitches into another frown, and his gaze goes back out through the window. “I don’t want your thanks.”

“You’re still getting it.” Akira huffs out; now he’s getting irritated with Goro. 

But Akira doesn’t want to be irritated with Goro. That’s the last thing he wants to feel right now. So Akira forces himself to calm down with one large, deep exhale. And then he’s taking Goro’s hands into his own. The movement startles Goro, and he starts to pull away. But then he stops himself.

Akira smiles, and he leans into Goro’s space.

Goro starts to pull away again. When Goro speaks, his words are so quiet. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Akira asks. He’s just as quiet as Goro; it comes out almost a whisper.

“Because we both know how this is going to end.” Goro says. He’s gripping Akira’s hands tight, almost too tight. It’s starting to hurt. But there's a kind of desperation to it that Akira understands all too well. Goro’s body is almost shaking, but his voice doesn’t yet betray him. “We shouldn’t do anything you’re going to regret.”

“I’m not going to regret this, Goro.” Akira says quietly. He leans further, closer. Their foreheads are almost touching. “Please.”

Akira has the ability to look through Goro’s acts and disguises. And maybe that’s why, right from the beginning, Akira was drawn to Goro, and Goro to him. Despite how everything else was pitting them against one another. Akira can see through all this bullshit, right into the heart of the situation.

And what Akira can see right now, is that Goro is scared. Terrified. Goro doesn’t want to go through the pain of losing something, when it’s so much simpler to not have it at all. And he hides that fear behind a wall of anger.

Goro had almost lost Akira once. He doesn’t want to go through the pain of that again.

That’s what’s so different about the two of them. Goro is terrified of loss. But Akira isn’t. And he’ll provide to push Goro needs.

Goro is still hesitating. But Akira is done waiting around. Akira leans further in, and their lips brush against one another. It sends a jolt of electricity across Akira; he shivers as he smirks. Meanwhile Goro has practically jumped in his place from the contact. But Goro doesn’t shy away as Akira kisses him again. 

Finally, Goro gives in. And he’s threading a hand through Akira’s hair. He’s pushing himself into Akira, almost starved of physical contact. And from what Akira knows of Goro’s life, he probably is. Akira is letting Goro explore as he places a series of kisses up Goro’s neck and along his jawline. Goro shivers in place at the contact, and Akira can’t help but smile and laugh. It seems Goro is a bit ticklish.

“Why are you like this, Akira?” Goro grumbles.

“Would you want me any other way?”

“Yes.” But they both know he’s lying.

And then it’s Goro kissing him. Ferociously so. And for that moment, the problems that have been pushed on their shoulders are forgotten. Reality isn’t in danger of being re-written. Akira didn’t almost die today. Goro is alive, and he never died in the first place. It’s just them, in the attic of Leblanc. The smell of coffee and curry in the air is comforting, relaxing.

But Goro is never one to leave things alone.

Goro breaks off from his kiss, just long enough to say, “We need to focus. We’re almost out of time.” 

“I know.” Akira tells him.

“We have to send the calling card tomorrow.”

“ _I know_. And we’ll do it tomorrow. But we still have tonight.” And _only_ tonight. Akira wants to say so much more than that. Why can’t they be selfish just this once? “Please, Goro. Please.”

“… Fine.” Goro says with a sigh. He looks defeated, but there’s some warmth to his eyes. “Just promise me this.”

“What is it?” Akira won’t blindly agree to whatever Goro wants. 

“When it happens, don't say goodbye.” Goro says. Akira is already opening his mouth to argue, but Goro is faster. He puts his hand over Akira’s mouth, and the look he gives Akira is hard, almost angry. “I mean it. Don’t. Say. Goodbye.”

Akira is silent as he gives in, and nods his head. Goro watches him carefully for a second, as if to check if he’s simply agreeing to appease Goro without meaning it. And then he’s smiling. Goro takes a deep breath, and for that moment, he seems at peace.

“And when I’m gone, I want you to remember me.”

* * *

It’s the 4th of February. 

Akira wakes from the fuzz of the Metaverse collapsing, shivering from the sudden drop of adrenaline. The world refocuses around him, and Akira learns that he’s lying on a cot that isn’t his, wearing a dark grey shirt and pants that are rough and scratchy against his skin, in a room that isn’t Leblanc’s attic. But he’s spent more than enough time in a prison cell this past year to realize where he is. It’s just as small as he expected it to be in reality. 

Akira can’t help but laugh, despite his situation. It’s not a happy sound. And Akira realizes that he’s on the verge of tears. He’s almost hysterical. But hey, at least he’s not wearing stripes.

So they really did it. They won. With Maruki’s reality gone, things have gone back to normal, to what they should be. Looks like ‘normal’ means he took Sae’s deal on Christmas Eve. If Akira’s right, then he’s been in prison for more than a month by now.

Akira struggles to slip off of the cot, his body still so sore from the fight, and he trudges to the window at the end of the small cell. It’s barred, and made of frosted glass, but Akira can still see the specs of light and life that must be Tokyo outside. He stands there and stares at the window rather than through it, and he wonders if his friends are alright. He wants them to be. 

(They will be. He has faith in them.)

Akira briefly wonders if they’re worried about him. If they wonder where he’s disappeared to. But no, they’re smart. They’ll figure it out. 

The finality of Akira’s choice is starting to set in. It doesn’t feel good.

Akira didn’t say goodbye. Just like Goro made him promise.

He’s already regretting that decision.

Akira doesn’t know what finally does him in. Maybe it’s because Akira is here; he’s alive and he _survived_ , despite the insurmountable odds. Maybe it’s the realization that even if he’s alive, he’ll always be a literal prisoner of fate. That he’ll never be truly free. But maybe it's because Akira knows that they finally won, but at a horrible price (and isn’t it _always_ a horrible price?). Maybe it’s the fact that Goro is truly gone forever.

No more second chances. Goro is gone. And whatever Akira shared with him was lost with him. Akira wasn’t scared, but it still hurts to lose something before you even had the chance to make something of it. 

Akira loses his strength to stand up, and he almost collapses to the ground of his cell. And for the first time since his first arrest, almost a full year ago by now, Akira allows himself to break down. He doesn’t need to be strong anymore, not for anyone, least of all himself. So Akira cries. Uncontrollably. His body shakes with each sob, and each breath is wrenched out of him. It's painful to cry this hard. 

Hours have passed, and when Akira finally does cry himself dry, it feels like he lost another piece of himself in the process.

* * *

Akira doesn’t know how many days have passed since reality has been restored. He doesn’t see much of anything outside his cell. Food comes and goes; sometimes he eats it, sometimes he can’t bring himself to touch it. Akira sleeps most of the time away. He doesn’t really see the point of counting the days. 

His first surprise is when a guard comes to collect him, and he’s brought to a visiting room. And on the other side of the glass wall sits Sae Niijima, waiting patiently for him. Despite how hollow and empty he feels, Akira chuckles to himself; it seems that they’ll always be destined to meet like this. Sae catches the laugh and gives him a questioning look, but Akira only shakes his head as he sits down.

“It’s been a while since I’ve last visited.” Sae starts, deciding to ignore his strange behavior. “And I apologize. Things have been a bit hectic on my side.”

“That’s alright.” Akira says with a shrug, his voice rough with going so long without speaking. If she’s been visiting while he’s in prison, this is the first time he’s heard of it. Maybe she has been. And then he asks, “What do you need?”

Because Sae Niijima always needs something from him. At this point, Akira wants to stop pretending that this is anything different.

For a moment, Sae looks shocked at his words. But then she nods, confirming Akira’s assumption.

“I… I need your help recounting something that happened last year.” Sae says, crossing her arms. She looks frustrated, more at herself than at Akira. “My own memory is a bit hazy for some reason, and I need it clarified for the case against Shido.”

Shido. Akira had forgotten about Shido. 

“What is it?”

“It’s about Goro Akechi.”

Akira freezes at the mention of that name. And for a moment, he’s untethered to reality, only vaguely aware of where he is and who he’s talking to. It’s not a pleasant feeling.

“Goro Akechi has been missing since early December, but I distinctly remember meeting with him on Christmas Eve.” Sae says, either unaware of Akira’s inner turmoil, or deciding to bulldoze through it to get her answers. “I had thought Akechi was the one to give the confession against Shido. But all my notes are on yours. I can’t find his anywhere.”

She doesn’t necessarily ask Akira a question. But it’s implied: _what’s going on here?_

And what could Akira tell Sae? The truth? That they’ve been living a false reality for over a month, one where a dead man was suddenly alive again? Probably, but not here. Not where someone can listen in on them. He won’t tell her the truth. Not all of it.

So Akira lets out a sad sigh. “No, I think you’re confused, Niijima-san. It wasn’t Akechi who turned himself in.” Not in reality, at least. “It was me.”

Despite herself, Sae still doesn’t look like she believes it. She must be remembering that false reality, even if she doesn’t even realize it. She shakes her head, but continues, “Do you have any idea where Akechi-kun could have gone? Where I might find him? It might help me shorten your sentence.”

Akira is silent for a moment. He can’t stop himself from quickly looking around the visiting room. It’s not an interrogation room, but Akira would rather not have this on record. And even when Akira can’t find a hidden camera, that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. When Akira’s eyes return to Sae’s, he sees that she caught his hesitation. And now she knows that whatever he’s about to say, it’s not to be taken lightly.

And yet, it takes Akira a second to start. “Goro is a resourceful man, who knows how to stay out of sight for as long as he wants.” Akira pauses, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He hopes Sae can pick out what he means through these carefully chosen words. He doesn't dare look away from her as he says, “If he’s not here already, then you won’t be able to find him.”

Sae falls quiet, frozen in her seat. Akira watches as Sae works through his words, and sees when she works it out. Sae’s eyes start to grow moist, and Akira remembers how the two had worked together. Despite being under Shido’s thumb, Goro had enjoyed working with Sae. She must have enjoyed it as well. They had been more than co-workers; they had been friends.

“… I see.” Sae’s voice has grown heavy and thick, hard to use. But she does not cry, does not wipe away the wetness in her eyes. Only her voice betrays her emotions. “That is… unfortunate.”

“Yes. It is.”

And then Sae is leaning forward, trying to catch Akira’s gaze. “Hey. I know things seem hopeless right now. But please, Akira. Don’t lose hope.”

Something about the way Sae says it makes Akira think back to Goro. If Goro were here, if he saw Akira like this, moping over both of their fates, then he’d be frustrated and angry at Akira. He’d force Akira to see things clearly, force him to see that there’s still work that needs to be done. Because Goro was always pushing Akira to do his best, to meet his unusually high expectations. And Akira always strived to break those too.

Goro would be asking Akira the same thing, albeit in a much more aggressive way.

So Akira forces himself to smile, despite everything. And then he nods. “I won’t.”

* * *

Akira expected that to be the end of that. Sae stops visiting, and Akira remains locked in his cell. No one else visits him; it’s not safe to have anyone else come. Even if they wanted to. While Akira’s only here because of the initial assault charge, for breaking his probation, he’s also been buried under so much red tape. It’s all because of speculation that he has ties to the Phantom Thieves. 

(Akira’s not an idiot; that has to be the case. He’s not in a high-security detention cell just because he supposedly assaulted a man in a back-valley, country town.)

Which, to be fair, he _is_ the leader of the Phantom Thieves. Was the leader of the Phantom Thieves. But that means none of his friends can visit. It’s too much of a risk that they’ll fall under surveillance. Or rather, any more surveillance than they're already under.

Time passes, ever so slowly. And then suddenly, Akira’s released. All charges against Akira are suddenly cleared, and his record has been scrubbed and cleaned, as much as it ever will be. All because his friends fought tooth and nail to find that woman who gave the initial false statement.

He’s discharged, and he’s _free._ And he’s back in Leblanc. And they were all there, waiting for him to return home.

(Almost all of them.)

Akira loves them so much.

* * *

It takes Akira a while to find a new rhythm, a new pace for his life. 

Now that Akira doesn’t have to constantly worry about the world ending, it feels like there’s suddenly too much free time on his hands.

Shujin doesn’t quite know what to do with Akira. He’s technically missed most of the third semester, and finals are only a couple weeks away. But since he’s been absolved of any charges, they can’t outright dismiss him, as much as some of the faculty would like to. This has left Akira in some strange middle ground; he doesn’t have to attend classes for the remainder of the school year, but he’ll still need to partake in the finals, just like everyone else. It’s the best he could wish for, really.

Akira’s nights have been filled with studying sessions with his friends, who are trying their hardest to keep him up to date. But most of the time, it’s Kawakami who’s teaching him, spending her off hours keeping Akira hunched over his textbooks. And Akira can’t help but chuckle when he surprises Kawakami by already knowing most of the material. Even so, Akira is so thankful for all of their help.

But now that Akira doesn’t have to attend school, he’s been helping Sojiro run Leblanc. It feels good, _normal,_ to do this. What Akira desperately needs right now is some semblance of normalcy. 

Even so, sometimes Akira catches himself looking up from his work, expecting a certain long haired brunette with a penchant for solving (and starting) crimes to be sitting at the counter. Sipping at his coffee while he tries to read, but occasionally looking up to watch Akira work. Each time Akira does this, he feels something in his chest shake and shudder for a moment, and then he forces that feeling back down. And then he ignores it and gets back to work.

The others have noticed his obvious grief. But thankfully, they haven’t commented on it. So far, the topic of Goro has gone unspoken. 

But that changes one day, on the first weekend in March.

It’s Saturday, and like usual, everyone’s gathering at Leblanc. Akira, Futaba, and Morgana are already in the cafe, waiting for the rest of their friend group to finally be free from their classes. The rest eventually stumble into Leblanc with smiles on their faces, and Ryuji and Sumire are laughing at something Yusuke said before they stepped inside. Hearing their laughter is enough to put a smile on Akira’s own face, and he waves them in.

Akira’s already preparing their usual drinks when Haru clears her throat.

“Actually Akira, we were hoping that we could do something different today. If you’d like to humor us.” Haru says, stepping forward.

“What did you guys have in mind?” Akira asks, already putting his apron away.

They all fall silent for a moment as they look at one another. And that’s the first hint that something rather important is happening.

Makoto is the one who steps forward and answers. “We were thinking about having a picnic. Just outside of the city.”

Huh. They’ve never done something like this before. Every time they go have lunch together, it’s always either takeout sushi, or an afternoon out at the diner in Shibuya. But Akira’s not opposed to trying something different. Especially now that the weather is starting to turn towards spring. “This is the first time I’m hearing about this.”

“That’s because… we were trying to keep it a surprise for you, Akira.” Ann says, almost sheepishly.

“A surprise? For me?” Akira can’t help but ask.

They all nod. And Morgana hops up on the counter. “Yep! We’ve all pitched in to get this ready. I’m surprised you didn’t catch onto us. Maybe your phantom thief skills are getting a bit rusty.”

Akira chuckles at Morgana’s teasings, and then he turns to Futaba. “You two too? I’m feeling a bit ganged up on.”

“Sorry, Kira! We’ve been sworn to secrecy.” Futaba tells him, looking proud of herself.

“Alright.” Akira says with a shrug. “Lead the way, then.”

Sojiro bids them all goodbye, wishing them a safe journey. He gives them a certain look that tells Akira that he was in on this too, but Akira doesn't have much time to think on that as Futaba tugs him outside. And then the group of friends are rounding the corner onto the main streets. Waiting for them is the bus Haru had bought sometime during Akira’s incarceration. (And there’s no reason to guess as to why she had bought it; it’s nearly identical to Morgana’s bus form.) Makoto takes the driver’s seat, and the rest of them all file inside. 

With nine bodies, it’s a bit of a tight squeeze, but nothing they’re not already used to. Makoto starts the engine, and then they’re on their way out of Yongen-Jaya, and onto the highway.

Less than an hour passes, and soon they’re in the outer neighborhoods of the Greater Tokyo Area. There’s less people, less towering buildings, more wildlife. With spring just beginning, it makes for pretty scenery. And after spending the past month in a small jail cell, it’s enough to capture and keep Akira’s attention. Akira has trouble looking away from the window, even as the conversation around him gets a little rowdy, and as Morgana walks over his lap to sit on Ann’s.

And then the bus is slowing down. And Akira catches sight of what’s outside. Immediately, he knows what they’re doing today. Akira’s smile drops, and the conversation in the bus drops with it.

They’re pulling into a cemetery.

Without speaking, Akira’s friends lead him through the cemetery. They walk through many of the cemetery’s different walkways, obviously knowing the layout better than Akira does. There’s a somber mood that has overcast them. No one speaks up, as no one dares to disturb the silence. Akira feels like he’s walking through a foot of water, with his legs sluggish and not quite his own. 

Akira’s heart feels heavy, and he’s already starting to cry before they even arrive at their destination.

And then they stop, and they gather around one plot in particular. Akira doesn’t need to read the name on the gravestone to know who it belongs to. 

The others are waiting for him to do something. But Akira doesn’t know what to do. He only stands there, motionless for a minute. And then he feels the urge to step forward. Akira places his hand on the top of the gravestone; he feels the cold, smooth surface of it, and he runs a finger across the name engraved into its side. Beside the name is another engraving. It’s a crow in flight, depicted in Yusuke’s unique art style.

Akira hasn’t been breathing. When he’s finally forced to take in a breath, it’s rough and hard against his lungs. It’s more of a sob than anything.

“Are you alright, Senpai?” Sumire breaks the tension, her voice soft and quiet.

“I…” No. Akira isn’t alright. But he doesn’t want the others to start worrying over him. So Akira forces himself to nod anyways. He clears his throat. “You guys did this?”

“We did.” Ann answers with a nod. “And not just for you, Akira. For Goro too.”

“We’re the only ones who know what really happened to Akechi, right?” Ryuji starts, shifting on his legs a bit, obviously feeling awkward but staying in place nonetheless. “So, we thought the best way to honor the guy, was this.”

“We all pitched in for it, too.” Morgana says, popping his head out of Akira’s bag. He taps a paw against Akira’s shoulder to catch his attention. “If not with money,” here, Morgana turns to motion towards Yusuke and himself, “then the location, and the choice of the gravestone.”

Makoto steps close to him, and she places her hand on Akira’s shoulder. That helps ground him, slightly.

“It’s the best we could do.” Makoto says. “With Akechi still considered missing… we couldn’t put forth too much information.”

“It’s just…” Haru starts, but trails off; she’s not quite certain of the words she wants to say. She looks conflicted. But then she continues. “Akechi-kun was a complicated person. He did a lot of things that were horrible. And unforgivable.” And now Haru is crying too, and she’s quick to wipe away her tears. “But he also saved your life, even after we all failed you, Akira.”

“And that,” Futaba says, pulling her arms around Akira to give him a tight hug, “is enough for us to forgive him. Without Akechi, you wouldn’t be here. And none of _this_ would be possible.”

Ryuji is nodding his head in agreement. “After everything, he really was one of us. We had to honor him, as Phantom Thieves should.”

They all fall silent, and Akira takes in their words. It hits him hard, harder than first catching sight of Goro’s grave. He turns away from them, facing the gravestone again. As he stares, he remembers that last private conversation he had with Goro. 

There had been no possible chance that Akira would ever forget Goro. No matter what happened. Goro’s had too large of an impact on his life for that to happen. And Akira feels almost shaken to know that he won’t be the only one to remember him. He’s downright _relieved_. 

Goro is gone. But he’s still left such a huge impact in his wake. His name is _here_ , to be seen by Akira and anyone else that passes by it. And even when Akira is gone, this will remain. It’s so much more than Akira could have hoped for.

“… Thanks, guys.” Akira finally says. And he knows he is crying again.

The others can see his emotional turmoil. Futaba hugs him harder, and then the others are joining in. It’s just what Akira needed at the moment, even if he can’t seem to stop crying. They hold each other for a long while. And then they all pull away.

“We’ll give you a moment, Akira. Take all the time you need.” Makoto says.

The others break off, starting to make their way back down the path they’ve taken. They don't drift too far; they’re still in sight. They’re just far enough for Akira to have some privacy. 

Akira stands still for a moment, just a moment, before he kneels down. He runs his hand slowly over the stone once again, determined to memorize the shape and indentations of the engraved crow. The bird stares back at him, and Akira gives out one last sob. But he’s smiling now. It’s a sad smile, but a smile all the same.

Akira promised Goro that he wouldn’t say it. But that doesn’t mean that Akira isn’t thinking of it.

_In Memory of Goro,_

_Our Crow_

_Strong of Heart and Unsung Hero,_

_To be Remembered when All others have been Forgotten_

Right now, Akira isn’t alright. But maybe with time, he will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, it's finished. 
> 
> When I first started writing this, it was just before those leaks about Goro potentially surviving came out. And while I was writing this, I seriously debated on using that leaked ending as a backbone. But in the end, after a lot of internal debate, I decided on this. Because ultimately, this was a short story about loss and remembrance. I hope I conveyed that, even if it's not the ending that some of you probably wanted.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and all of your wonderful comments.


End file.
